Injustice of Living
by Hadley-sensei
Summary: Moving along after the death of a loved one is never an easy task... But I managed it.  Now, getting back after aforementioned loved one comes back to life?  That's a bit more difficult to deal with.   Jason Todd x OC.  M for Language.
1. Prologue: A Funeral

Injustice of Living  
>Prologue<p>

_Prologue: A Funeral_

It was a really cliché funeral, if you ask me.

Typical stormy Gotham weather, a silent rain, no sun, a slight chill reminded me that winter was near.

His grave was turning to mud before my eyes.

There weren't many people here, but that didn't surprise me. Jace only knew so many people, and only the most important of which decided to show.

Bruce Wayne was there, obviously. He was quite handsome, I bothered to note, more handsome than I'd seen him in pictures or on T.V. I suppose he'd probably be more attractive if he wasn't wearing that stone cold expression of self-loathing and regret.

There was only one other girl there. She was quite pretty, with bright red hair and green eyes like mine. She sat in a wheelchair, which was being pushed by who I assumed was her father (they had the same eyes and jaw line, from what I could see). The girl and her father looked solemn and sad, but not very mournful. I was trying to guess who the two were; seeing if Jason had ever spoke of them around me, but my memory came up blank.

Lastly, the only other besides me was a much older man. He stood with perfect posture in a perfectly pressed suit. The man was balding, but still had a mustache. My guess was that this was Alfred, the caretaker of Wayne Manor. Jason had always spoke of this man with a fond sarcasm, so I assumed he must have meant a lot to him. Alfred himself showed the most emotion out of the bunch (Bruce was too stoic, while the wheelchair girl and her father just didn't seem sad enough). Tears filled his eyes, but never spilled, and his mustache would twitch as he sniffled. My own lips pursed and quivered when I saw the old man's expression.

To distract myself, I glanced around the cemetery. As the Priest read the word of the Bible, I read the names on headstones.

_'Jones... McGovern... Tompson...'_

I imagined I looked uneasy. I couldn't stop moving my feet, letting the squishy, wet grass squeak beneath my shoes. My hands never left the pockets of my jacket. I've never been to a nice funeral like this before, so I didn't really know what to wear. Eventually, after a whole hour of searching through my closet, I settled to thinking I should wear what Jason wanted me to wear. But, lingerie was probably not that appropriate. So instead, I wore what made me comfortable, a simple white tee shirt, black jacket with a hood, and my nicest pair of jeans. Of course this was all topped off with my signature pair of red sneakers. Jason always commented on them whenever I wore them.

Glancing around at the others, I noticed that I was still terribly under-dressed...

"...Lift us from anxiety and guilt..." The Priest's words were just background noise to the overwhelming sadness in the air.

I tried to look on the bright side of things. The bright side of a funeral. Jace had always told me, mostly out of bitterness, that no one would show up to his funeral. That no one would be sad or would have cared. But, here I was with four other people, mourning over his casket. He was being buried next to his mother, ironically enough. Most of our conversations had consisted of us complaining about how much we hated our mothers.

But, he was lucky enough to discover that the woman who had "cared" for him in his early years, was not actually related to him.

* * *

><p><em>"Maddy! Maddy, wake up!," he was shaking my shoulders.<em>

_My eyes flew open from being suddenly pulled from my comfortable sleep. It was late, and he had burst through my bedroom window. At first, I was frantically confused, wondering what could be so important that Jason had woken me up in the middle of the night. Not to mention, also quite startled. _

_I sat up, and almost immediately, he collapsed seated next to me on the bed, blurting out incomprehensible words through held back tears. "My mom wasn't my mom."_

_Thinking back now, I realized how bravely he took the news. If it had been me, I can't say how I would've reacted. But, then again, Jason's relationship with the woman who raised him was a lot better than mine, even though it was still far from perfect._

_"Wasn't your mom...?" I mumbled into my hand as I rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes. "Catherine? What-? Wait, then who is...?"_

_He slumped, resting his arms across his legs, chin touching his chest. Finally awake enough to sort of comprehend the situation, I stroked the back of his head in a comforting manner, brushing the black hair that fell into his face._

_"Some woman named Sheila..."_

"_How did you find out…?" I wrapped my arms around his shoulders lazily. I used his shoulder as a pillow, closing my eyes, but leaving my ears attentive._

_"I checked the state records… Ran a DNA test out of the Cave."_

"_Where is she?"_

"_I don't know."_

_"...Are you gonna go and find her?" the answer scared me a bit._

_He finally looked up to me. Even in the perpetual darkness, I could still see how red his eyes were. But, he didn't cry._

_"Of course!"_

_There was a new-found determination in his voice... A type of optimism that I was not used to associating with him. Normally, he was the cool, sarcastic, suave rebel-boy. Not the emotionally-drained, tear-suppressing, little kid beside me._

_Even though I knew I should have been prying more, been more concerned, being more supportive and stuff, I was dead tired._

_"How?" I asked through a yawn. A spike of disappointment settled in my stomach. _

_He leaned back, finally regaining his composure. "I'll track her down. Leave Gotham and go look for her. As soon as possible," his eyes shone brightly through the darkness._

_I glanced over at the clock. It read 3:48 AM. I groaned._

_It's too damn early to deal with this shit. Too early for Jason to leave._

_"Can you at least wait until morning...?" I muttered grumpily, flopping back onto my pillows, pulling my blankets up to my chin. I wanted him to stay with me. _

_I heard him laugh quietly. He was laughing at me. It was his typical Jason chuckle, low and husky with a sort of superior tone. Had I been more awake, I might have laughed with him, or at least made a face. Still, I blame my ease of the situation on my exhaustion._

_"Okay..." he whispered, not leaving his seat. He decided to do quite the opposite, and removed his shoes, lying down beside me on the narrow mattress, jeans and jacket still on._

_I cracked open one eye to look at his face one more time. It wasn't the first time we've shared a bed, so I allowed it this night. He smiled back to me, leaning forward only a few inches to kiss my forehead in a sweet, very un-Jason like manner._

"_Thanks, Maddy," I heard him whisper as I faded off into a deep sleep._

* * *

><p>That was the last time I saw Jason in person... during that meager exchange of words. He left a note in the morning, then I got a phone call about a week later, saying he was in Ethiopia- of all places!- and had found his mother. The reception wasn't very good, so our conversation only lasted a few minutes. Luckily, I was smart enough to tell him that I missed him, that I was happy for him, and that I was waiting for him to come home.<p>

I never regretted that phone call. Perhaps that was why I was so relaxed right now...

"...And set the glory of your love before us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," we all echoed, disenchanted and somber.

One by one, the spectators dispersed. The Priest was the first to go, leaving quickly through the gates. A good few minutes passed before the man and his daughter left. The man went ahead, while the girl in the wheelchair slugged behind him, head faced downwards.

I stayed, wanting to get in my last words with Jason.

The old man, Alfred, left next. Before exiting, he put a gentle squeeze to Bruce's shoulder, whispering something to him that I couldn't hear. As he walked away, he stopped in front of me, who had been standing like an outsider, on the edge of the whole thing. Alfred gave me a kind, warm smile, dipping his head politely. I couldn't return the warmness of his smile, and could only manage a grimace as I nodded back. That seemed to be enough and he walked past me at a slow pace.

By the looks of it, Bruce had no intention of leaving anytime soon. I couldn't tell what was going through his mind exactly, but the pain in his eyes told me enough.

With only a slight reluctance, I stalked away from the graves, now choosing to take a stroll around the cemetery and give Bruce some time alone.

As I walked, I continued my little game of reading tombstones.

_'Samantha Regalson: Loving Mother and Wife.'_

Jason's mom, Sheila, was being buried today, too. Next to her son... It's sort of sad, though. No one had shown up for her, we were all here for Jace. Did she even know about Jace? How did she react when he found her? ...And how did they end up dying together?

I had learned of Jason's death from the papers. He and his mom got a pathetic little footnote in the corners of the Obituaries. "_Gotham boy and mother die in terrorist bombing_," it had read. There was a bit of information about Jason, but not enough to gain public interest.

There's a black blur in my memory of my reaction to the news. I remember thinking that it wasn't real. It must have been Jason playing one of his sick jokes again...

My memories only become clear two days later, when I received an invitation to his funeral from Bruce Wayne. It hadn't been a joke...

It sort of hit me then... My best friend was dead. And he wasn't gonna come back...

Tears began to numbly pour from my eyes, thick and heavy. I closed my eyes tightly, grabbing the bridge of my nose. In a weak attempt to stop the tears, I threw my head back and started blinking furiously. In my efforts, my hood fell from my head, letting my short, chestnut hair spring free to fall about my face.

I brought my head back up, now that the liquid had stopped pouring. Honestly, the whole situation was a bit laughable.

_'Jason would totally rail on me for crying...'_ I thought with a bitter laugh. He was never one for sympathy, was he?

_'...Smith...Johnson... Virmir...'_

I continued to read the names as my feet numbly drug me through the cemetery. I could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but I soon enough found myself back at Jason's grave.

Bruce was still there. His back was turned to Jason's casket. I was close enough to catch his final words, "...Could have protected you..."

Something in his voice unsettled me. "Mr. Wayne?" I called, walking meekly towards the man. One of my hands had grabbed the opposite elbow (a nervous habit of mine), and held my arm closely to my side, as if preventing it from striking out.

Bruce turned to me, his face stony as ever. "Ah, Miss. Sanders."

"Call me Maddy..." I couldn't look him in the eye.

"I have something for you," his voice reminded me of stepping on gravel.

His large hand appeared in my vision, holding what looked to be a scrap of black cloth or a ribbon. Gingerly, I took the scrap from him, surprised to find that it held a stiffness to it. I laid it across my palms, seeing that it formed the shape of two diamonds. It was ripped and torn, but I could still tell what it was.

"Jason, he... he told me you knew." There was no shock nor an accusatory tone to his voice. He was speaking in a very blasé way.

Finally, I gathered enough courage to look Bruce in the eyes. "I'm sorry..."

I don't know exactly what I was apologizing for... Whether it was because I knew Jason and Bruce's secret, or whether it was just the fact that Batman had lost his Robin. Maybe it could have been something completely different.

"It's fine. He trusted you... And so will I."

The tears were back, full force.

Bruce's eyes slowly coated with sympathy. He took my hands in his, and closed my fingers around the mask in my palms.

"Just take care of it... Maddy."

I nodded to the man in front of me, feeling nothing but respect and empathy for him.

My body shook with sobs. I found it physically difficult to speak when I said, "T-thank y-ou."

I heard him brush past me. His footsteps faded, and so did my sobbing. Though still tearful, I was composed enough to take those few steps forward to Jason's coffin.

I shoved the mask in my jacket pocket, and dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged. The rain had stopped, but the grass was still soaking, and I could feel the cold water seeping into my jeans, undoubtedly drenching them. I really couldn't even care less at this point.

"Well..." I sniffled, eyes to the ground, "I'm here, Jace."

My mind reeled. What was I supposed to say? What had I left unsaid?

Honestly... there wasn't much. Both Jason and I lived in a way that wouldn't allow us to have regrets. We always said what we wanted to, and promised never to hold anything back.

"I love you, Jace," I finally spat out. I've may have told him that a hundred times, but it was something that could never be said enough. "I really do... I'm gonna miss you, you know." My green eyed stare lifted. I focused on the array of flowers on top of the coffin. "I don't have anyone else now... Just like the old days, I'm alone again... No one is ever gonna replace you, though. You know that, Jason." With the heel of my palm, I viciously wiped away my tears. "It's gonna be tough... But at least you're better off. I'll make it work, you know..."

I paused, allowing my silence to hang in the air for a minute or two.

I needed to take a deep breath before continuing, "I'm gonna miss hanging out with you... You'd always come over at night, after you were done fighting crime or whatever... I never got much sleep. I was always late for work the days you came over... That's why the manager fired me. But, you know," I chuckled at this part, "When it came down to it, I'd rather be broke and homeless and hanging out with you than have a boring job."

Looking down again, I pulled my knees to my chest, and buried my face in my arms, "I'm gonna miss you, Jace."

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter is an updatededited version of the original. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter One: A Life

Injustice of Living  
>Chapter One<p>

_Chapter One: A Life_

It's been a few years since Jason's death.

But, unsurprisingly enough, I really hadn't changed that much.

I had the same hairstyle. I was still nocturnal. I still lived in the same shitty apartment...

But that doesn't mean I have changed _at all_... I mean, it's been over two years. Everyone changes at least a little.

Physical changes? Well, I had gotten a tattoo (the end result of one too many rum and cokes). A sentimental little thing, a cute, American-old-style tattoo of a little robin bird on my hip. I laughed when I woke up with it. No regrets, remember? Other than that, well, I'd grown a bit… Gotten a few more scars.

I had also gotten a job. A job that actually kinda suits me. Every night at nine PM, I left my apartment to go and be a hostess/waitress at a small 24-hour diner downtown. The work itself was bullshit. The customers were shit and I did my best to stay away from my coworkers. The job doesn't have the best pay, but it's the best I can do currently. It got me by with the rent and food money. Plus, I didn't really have to change my lifestyle at all, which made it worth it.

So I was pretty content with my current life.

I still didn't have many friends... I had people around the neighborhood who I would say hi to when I passed them, but no real friends... I had had a few boyfriends, but they never lasted more than a month or so. Usually, I held out until the third date, we'd fuck at his place, then I'd be done with them. They were always older, generally egotistical losers who were looking for a teen girl. Most of them actually got pretty pissed when I broke it off. Not a very healthy way of dealing with relationships, but I figured I'm still young, and I have time to mess around.

The only thing that bugged me was that I didn't have Jason with me. I didn't have that loyal friend, who'd always be there for me. That person who'd make you laugh, even if you didn't want to. The person who made you think you didn't need anybody else. The person who you gave your whole self to.

I didn't have my friend. I didn't have my lover. I didn't have my Jason.

I visited his grave as often as possible. Or, rather, as often as appropriate. After his funeral, I avoided the cemetery for about a week… Then I started going everyday. I would just stand on top of his grave, and stare at the tombstone blankly. It was around the time that the groundskeeper of the cemetery knew me by my first name, that I realized that I should cut back on the visits.

My daily visits turned into weekly ones... Then, eventually, monthly ones.

I had visited only about two weeks ago, now... While I was there on my latest visit, I had run into Bruce Wayne for the first time since the funeral.

* * *

><p><em>It was a monthly ritual of mine, visiting Jason's grave... I go there, bring flowers or something, and just sit on his grave for a while.<em>

_If it had been a bad month, I'd tell him about it. If it had been a good month, I'd tell him about it. I almost always had something to say. Eventually, the visits became more for myself than to pay respects to Jason. The visits were like a therapy of sorts, time for me to talk out what had been happening in my life, vent about my troubles, and praise myself for accomplishments._

_I only went to the cemetery on days I knew not many people would be around, like holidays or days with bad weather. Today, though, was a special day. It wasn't a holiday, and the weather was gorgeous with a glowing sun, and passing clouds._

_Today was a special day. Today was August 17th._

_Jason's birthday._

_I had planned to go early in the morning, get all of my nonsense out of the way before anyone else would come to visit their lost loved ones._

_But, that backfired when I accidentally slept in. I didn't have time to get to the graveyard until dusk._

_The sun was riding low along the horizon. Luck was on my side because not many people were visiting the cemetery, and no one was in Jason's area._

_I brought nothing for him this time. Jason never liked birthday presents..._

_"Happy Birthday, Jace," I smiled at the head stone._

_'Here Lies Jason Todd' was all it read. Kind of cryptic, if you asked me._

_"You would've been... What now? Seventeen? Eighteen?" I paused thoughtfully, "Well, I'm seventeen now, so I guess you would be eighteen... Yeesh, that means I'll be eighteen soon. Damn, we're old."_

_A smile reached my face as I pictured an eighteen year-old Jason in my mind's eye. Same cocky grin on a more chiseled face, taller, broader, same blue-green eyes. "I bet you would've been cute."_

_"Miss. Sanders?"_

_I jumped a bit, hearing someone call my name from a short ways away. Pivoting sharply, I saw none other than Bruce Wayne with a bouquet of white flowers, and a younger boy by his side, both standing a few yards away from me._

_"Oh... Hello, Mr. Wayne," I smiled at the older man, though I was actually eying the boy next to him._

_Black hair, blue eyes, lean and athletic, only about thirteen years old or so. He was clearly uncomfortable being here, and I had a good guess why._

_"Miss Sanders, this is my new ward, Tim."_

_With a reassuring smile, I waved at the kid. "You can call me Maddy."_

_I knew exactly who this kid was. It was just short of a year after Jason died that I started seeing a new Robin around. Even I didn't think Bruce would move on so fast… But I guess Batman needs a Robin._

_A piercing electronic noise rung through the air, disrupting our introductions._

_Bruce sighed, pulling a sleek cell phone from his pocket. He frowned, reading the screen, and looked to Tim apologetically. "Company business. I'll be right back."_

_Tim was left with the bouquet and an awkward atmosphere. I didn't really help make the situation any better. I'd never been on one of my Jason visits with anyone else before… Is this an appropriate place for small talk? I didn't think so._

_The younger boy stiffly walked up to the grave, placing the flowers on the grass below. He returned to stand beside me, only a little ways off._

_"So..." I began, trying my best to sound as casual as possible, "How's it going?"_

_"Good," he mumbled, facing his shoes._

_"I heard you stopped Falcone from blowing up town hall." Yeah, that's totally normal to say._

_Nice going Madds._

_So much for "smooth," but I loved being in the know. After Jason had become Robin, I always got the juiciest gossip about the crime in Gotham. After apprehending a criminal or busting a heist, I was the person Jason came to so he could gloat. Whenever he'd have a fight with Bruce, I was the person he'd come to so he could vent. When he messed up, I was the person he'd come to so he could feel better. I was there for him before he became Robin, and I'm here for him afterwards, too._

_Tim looked at me, shocked and uncomfortable._

_"Don't worry," I continued to babble, "Mr. Wayne already knows that I know. I mean, he knows that I know who he is, and now you know that I know who you are, too."_

_"Oh... That makes sense... I think."_

_"Sorry. It's hard to describe."_

_A few minutes passed in silence. The sun was still sinking, and I knew I didn't really have much time left. I was just about to say goodbye when Tim suddenly asked, "Were you friends with him? Jason, I mean."_

_I nodded, my eyes glancing from Tim to the headstone, "Yeah. We've known each other since we were kids..."_

_"Did he, like, talk to you a lot?"_

_"Yeah, all the time."_

_"Even about... Robin stuff?"_

_"Almost entirely." I carefully eyed Tim. His expression was thoughtful, but in a sort of childish way. "Look," I turned away from him, hiding a small smirk on my face, "I don't completely understand, but I probably get what it's like to be Robin more than almost anyone else... So, if you ever, you know, need someone to talk to, I live in Daybreak Apartments downtown. Two G."_

_I glanced back once to see his face turn to a mixture of genuine relief and surprise. With a short smile and a wave, I took my leave._

_Bruce was walking back through the cemetery gates as I was walking out._

"_Leaving already?"_

_I nodded to him, "Yeah, I've done what I needed to do..." Just as I was about to walk past him, Bruce put a hand on my shoulder to stop me._

"_Madeline..." he seemed more serious than I had ever really seen him. "If you don't mind me asking... How has your life been lately? Are you well?"_

_Confused, I answered, "Yeah... I've been pretty good..."_

"_Do you have a job?"_

"_Yeah. I'm a waitress down at the diner on the corner of Fourth and State Street." A bit uncomfortable, I shoved my hands in my jean pockets, and shuffled my red Converse. "Why do you ask?"_

"_I'm just making sure that... You're okay."_

_A thought clicked in my head. I realized why Bruce was so concerned._

_I smiled at him reassuringly, letting my green eyes comfort his trouble blue ones, "I'm fine Mr. Wayne. Thank you for asking."_

_We began to part again. This time, though, I was the one to stop, "By the way, Mr. Wayne..." I waited until he turned to face me. His expression was much more relaxed. "Tim seems like a good kid." I hope he knew the meaning behind my plain words._

_The small curl of his lips told me yes._

_Finally, I left the dreary cemetery, sunshine warming my cheeks._

_I was glad to have my small talk with Bruce. I understood where he was coming from, too..._

_I remember the painfully guilty look in Bruce's eyes at Jason's funeral. It's one of the only things I remember about that day... I've suppressed most of the rest._

_Jason undoubtedly told him about me... Probably more than Bruce is letting on. I'm a high school drop-out living in downtown Gotham with no parents to look after me. Sure, my situation has improved somewhat since Jason died, but that was mostly because I'm older now (at least according to my fake ID) and can actually be hired for a full-time job. As a kid, I had it pretty rough, of course. My only constant was Jason, but that was really all I needed anyway. We'd been friends almost as long as either of us could remember. We'd live in the same apartment building, the same one I'm living in now, raised together. And, considering our family issues, we really only had each other. Of course, things eventually made a turn for the better for Jason. He went to live with a billionaire. But that's not to say he ever let me down. He still looked after me, and I was still there for him._

_Bruce blames himself for Jason's death, that much was made obvious to me, even if I don't completely know why. Logically, Bruce probably also believes he took Jason from me, and in turn let me down._

* * *

><p>Though I disagree with this reasoning, I understand it. And, honestly, it's pretty cool being on a first-name-basis with Batman.<p>

I've been thinking about Bruce,Tim, and (of course) Jason for most of the week now. It's Thursday, exactly two weeks past Jason's birthday. This morning, I was woken up by a surprise voicemail on my land line. I must have been in shock while listening to it. It was a man on the other line, going by the name of Norman Schwartz, calling in regards of a possible job for me as a desk worker for Wayne Enterprises. I had never applied, but it didn't have to think very hard about how my name was put in for the job. For the rest of the day, my mind was completely focused on the Bat Boys. First, it was just about the new job, but then my thoughts webbed outwards in a network of confusing connections.

Before I knew it, it was 4 AM on a Thursday, the end of my shift at the diner and time for me to go to sleep. I walked home, only a few short blocks, with no complications. Down-town Gotham wasn't necessarily the safest place in the world, regardless of what Batman was doing. The walk there was usually more treacherous, but even petty criminals had to sleep. The streets were deserted by the time I walk home.

I reached my apartment at a leisurely pace. I wasn't really all that tired, and honestly didn't want to go to bed just yet. But, as I said before, it's 4 AM. I had no friends to hang out with (even if I did, would they want to hang out at this hour?), and it's not like I have anywhere else to go.

With a slightly over-dramatic sigh, I pushed the door open.

The first thing I noticed about my apartment was how dark it was. Next thing I noticed was how cold it was. Not terribly chilly, but definitely a few degrees colder than how I normally keep it. When a gentle breeze brushed over my bare arms, I knew that a window was open somewhere in the apartment..

I always kept my windows shut.

Cautiously, I closed the door, glancing around my pitch black living room for any moving shadows. Why anyone would want to break into my apartment was beyond me. It was located in one of the most run-down districts of Gotham, and definitely didn't exude the feel of "Valuables in Here!"

Moving as slowly as possible, I headed towards the light switch a few feet away. While doing so, I bent down to retrieve the small revolver that was strapped to my ankle. I was a single woman living in Gotham. We all carried some sort of self-defense weapon.

It just so happens I didn't want to pussyfoot around with silly tasers or brass knuckles. A woman with a gun was not to be messed with.

Miniature pistol in hand, I gathered the courage to flip on the overhead light.

Aiming wildly, I pointed my gun at a yellow and green clad figure sitting casually on my couch.

"Jay?" I whispered in shock, but corrected myself once my brain caught up with my eyes. I doubled back, throwing my hands up in the air, pointing the gun away. "Oh my God, Tim! Give a girl some warning! I could have shot you!"

The younger boy's masked eyes were wide with shock, and he too held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry!" he grimaced, "I'm sort of used to dealing with people who can see I the dark, you know?" He then eyed up the gun in my right hand, "Besides, can that little thing actually do any real damage?"

Slightly offended, I retorted with the ever-so eloquent response, "Shut up. I like this little thing..." Walking deeper into the room, I put down my purse, leaving my gun with it. I untied the off-white canvas apron around my waist, tossing it to the ground also. Not bothering to change from my waitress uniform, I sat on the couch opposite of Tim. Getting comfortable, I asked him, "So, what brings the Boy Wonder to my humble abode?"

"Well... I kinda need someone to talk to..."

And, just like that, my life felt kinda normal again.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter is an updatededited version of the original. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter Two: A Friend

Injustice of Living  
><span>Chapter Two

_Chapter Two: A Friend_

I couldn't help but give him a warm little smile. "Sure, Tim… What can I help you with?"

The younger boy fidgeted where he sat, "Well, it's something I can't really talk about to anyone else..."

I quirked an eyebrow, "Not even Bruce?" Surely there weren't many problems that Batman couldn't solve… And if it wasn't something Bruce could help with, why would he come to me with it?

Tim laughed under his breath, "I don't think this is a problem Bruce can handle..."

Well, if he didn't have my complete attention before, he certainly had it now. "Something Bruce can't _handle_? What can it possibly be?"

Tim inhaled a large breath, and avoided looking me as he said, "My… my girlfriend's pregnant."

It took me a minute to process the information. When I did, I was sure my eyes bulged out of my head, "What?! You're- like, twelve!"

"Fourteen," he corrected me promptly, "And she's fifteen. And I'm not the dad."

"Oh!" I heaved a sigh, "Well, shit. You almost gave me a heart attack..." I paused before questioningly lifting my head to meet Tim's mask covered eyes. He was somber, clearly confused and in need of help- a rather mature decision for a boy his age to make, I was sure to note. This made me feel suddenly grown-up, too. "So what're you gonna do?"

"Well, I kinda wanted to ask you that..."

* * *

><p>And that's how it sort of happened… Tim became my new Jason.<p>

Their problems were vastly different, though. While Jason came to me looking for someone to listen, Tim came in search of advice. And I was more than happy to comply. I felt more like an adult around Tim; Jace usually made me feel like a little kid. Tim had normal problems- at least, compared to the ones I was used to hearing. He'd talk about his girlfriend, and dad, and school. In turn, I could tell him about my job and complain about my neighbors. These were average conversations, casual… They lacked a certain weight that the talks Jason and I would have. We didn't use words like "death" or "fight" or "kill." Tim and I could speak without needed to take a break from sheer emotional pressure. Even though we did talk a lot about Batman and Robin, Tim filtered himself a lot. He'd give me the gist of particular events, only going into detail if appropriate or out of necessity. I was somewhat grateful for this, but came to accept that I wasn't going get Tim to open up as much about that side of his life.

I began to realize Tim and I weren't nearly as close as Jason and I had been, and never really would be. Probably because of the age gap between us. He became more of a little brother to me, which turned out to be _really_ nice. He was someone I never knew I needed. I never had any _real_ family to speak of, except for Jason. But Jason and I were so much more than family or friends... We were like soul mates, I guess. And not just in the romantic way, either. Jason had been everything to me, even though I knew I wasn't everything to him. He was my other half, and (believe it or not) my better half.

But with Tim... It was a simple yet meaningful relationship. We fell into a routine where he'd stop by at the very least once a week. I'd usually come home from work to find him sitting on my couch or going through my fridge.

I ended up spending quite some time as Tim's unofficial counselor. He had only been Robin for a couple months when we met. Turned out that I was the one to see him through as Batman's sidekick, even though I didn't know it at the time.

But, as good things always do, the era of Timmy and me came to an end.

He left me for Young Justice, a team set up by the Justice League, through which Tim tried _so hard_ to prove himself. But they disbanded- through tragedy, and I had him back for a little while. Then the Teen Titans recruited him, and though it took some persuasion, he joined that. While he was never gone from Gotham very long, he was _so_ busy when he came home. Unlike the other Robins, Tim had a family. He lived two lives; one as Tim Drake, the other as the Boy Wonder.

When Tim was gone, I found myself seeing Bruce (of all people) more often, which I suppose was a pleasant surprise. He visited me at my new job; a personal work assistant for one of the head board members of Wayne Enterprises. It was a cushy gig, if I do say so myself. The work was mostly just keeping things organized, filing papers, and making coffee runs. Bruce would pop in to check up on me, often before he had a meeting with my boss. We'd talk for a bit, which was always nice...

Well, until recently it's been nice. Lately... he's been asking me weird questions.

* * *

><p><em>"Madeline," he greeted me with his usual politeness. I still haven't gotten him to call me Maddy...<em>

_"Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne!" I greeted back cheerfully, as I had been instructed to do. It was a boring day, though. I was genuinely happy that Bruce bothered to stop by, even if my cheerfulness was a little overstated. "What can I help you with this fine day?" I had held back a cringe, overly aware of the pep in my voice._

_He was pretty blunt, "I'm just wondering if anything... strange has been happening to you lately." His tone grew steadily darker, less Bruce-like, and more how I imagined Batman would talk._

_"Strange?" I echoed, my tone dropping just as his did, going from peppy to confused. "What do you mean?"_

_"No... Odd visitors? No one seeking you out or following you?"_

_I paused to think. No, no visitors (seeing as I never had any to begin with, I'd think I'd notice one), definitely no one following me. Wait… Why would anyone be following me? I've had hardly any human contact outside of my job, now that Tim left. "Nah, not that I can think of..."_

_Bruce's stoney face stared me down for another long moment before relaxing. "Alright... Just let me know if you see anything- or anyone. Let me know immediately."_

* * *

><p>He left after that.<p>

I finished my day at work and headed home, Bruce's ominous warnings ringing through my thoughts. Strange visitors? Why would he ask me that?

Considering the fact that I never technically finished high school, I still thought myself to be pretty smart sometimes... I could put the pieces together. Bruce wouldn't be so cryptic if it was a socially "normal" issue. I can only assume he's dealing with something as Batman that somehow involves me...

But my only connection to Batman is Jason and Tim. Tim's still off with the Titans for another week, and Jason's... Well, Jason's been dead for almost four years now.

I was halfway through my drive home when I chose to alter my route, intentionally ending up in a very familiar cemetery.

I could walk this path with my eyes closed. They took me right to the place I always ended up: in front of Jason Todd's grave.

But it wasn't the peaceful scenery I was used to. There was something so... off about the grave site. Patches of grass were torn up, leaving long streaks of muddied ground. A few gravestones had toppled, some even breaking. I was familiar with this type of damage from my younger years as a delinquent. There had been a fight… a big one. A bat-sized one.

"You shouldn't be here, Maddy," I heard a voice say behind me, only a few feet away.

Turning quickly, I found it was none other than Tim, donning a rare outfit of civilian clothes. A school uniform, by the looks of it. "You need to leave."

My brow furrowed, he was supposed to be in California. He never told me he was home.

"What happened here, Tim?" ignoring his request, I got straight to the point. On an instinctual level, I was offended by his disrespectful tone. But I pushed down my pride because frankly, I was paranoid and edging on scared. What was happening?

Tim sighed, frustrated, but with an expression that read _'Yeah, I thought you'd say that_.'

I noticed he was sporting a few more scrapes and bruises than usual, a fairly dark one spotting on the corner of his jaw. I knew that mark pretty well, he'd obviously received a hard hook to the face. Even though he kept his collar pushed as far as it would go, I could still make out a thin cut along his neck and a hidden bandage covering either his shoulder or chest. It was tough to tell.

"It doesn't matter, Maddy," he scolded as if I were a child (which was fucking stupid, really, seeing as he wasn't even seventeen yet, and I was nearly twenty). "Just go home. It's getting dark."

I pushed a chunk of my short chestnut hair out of my face, narrowing my eyes at my friend, "Tim, just tell me what's going on. I know it involves me somehow." I didn't mean for my voice to shake so much.

Tim seemed unsure, and started to glance over his shoulder as if something was about to jump out from behind the grave and attack him. "Let's go to your apartment. I'll tell you there," he bargained reluctantly.

To his relief, I pulled my keys from my pocket, letting him walk me out of the cemetery. I remained vigilantly suspicious, though. I wa pissed he was keeping things from me. But if obeying meant finding out what was going on, then I'd do that.

We made it to the parking lot, and I practically pushed Tim into my boxy blue convertible. This cheap, gaudy mess of a car was my absolute pride. I poured into it money I'd saved for months. As of right now, it was the most valuable thing I owned- and probably ever would own.

Before I even turned the key in the ignition, I demanded, "Tim, just tell me. What's going on?"

Tim was still fidgety, "I'm not really supposed to tell you..."

"That's never stopped you before."

Finally, he looked at me. Straight at me, in the eye, "I care about you, Madds... You're my friend, but I don't want you doing anything dangerous..."

I was getting frustrated now, "Why would I do anything dangerous?" I snapped barely containing myself enough to not shout, "I still have _no idea_ what you're talking about!"

"Do… Do you still care about Jason?" Tim asked, out of the blue. "Like… Like- do you, you know, do you love him? Still?"

The question caught me off guard. I consciously slowed the car, knowing I was too distracted to go my normal break-neck speed (Tim _hated_ how I drove- said I was like a bat out of hell, which always made me laugh). Luckily, at that moment, we pulled up to a stoplight, and I had time to glance over at Tim.

His ice-blue eyes met my dark green ones with an evenness I couldn't quite describe. Like I wasn't talking to a kid, like Tim wasn't just a kid anymore. He wasn't even Tim. He was Robin, straight-faced and completely serious.

"... Of course I still care about him..." I answered at length, just as the red light turned green. "He was my best friend, Tim. I loved him with everything I had."

Tim sucked in a deep breath through his nose, "Will you ever stop caring about him?"

I chuckled dryly, waves of feelings beginning to stir in my gut, "Honestly... I kind of wish I could." Tim seemed surprised by my statement, so I elaborated, "Back when Jace first died... It hurt me _so much_..." my eyes glazed over as I numbly drove down roads, losing my set direction. "I wish I could just forget about him... Or just move on... But, I can't. I've never had a normal life, Tim. I don't have support or goals. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm living for. Sometimes, it feels like the only things that keep me alive are my feelings for Jason. It hasn't taken long for me to figure out that my feelings weren't going to stop just because he was dead."

Tim didn't seem enlightened by my answer. Hell, even I didn't really know exactly what I was getting at. Words were just coming out of my mouth, I wasn't thinking.

"Could you... I dunno. Could you tell me about him?"

I made a short turn, vaguely wondering where I was supposed to be driving to, "About Jason?" As much as we talked, Jason had been a taboo subject for Tim. Sure, I wouldn't have minded if he asked me under normal circumstances, but he just didn't. I never knew if it was out of respect or awkwardness.

"Yeah," Tim stared out the window, "Before he became Robin. Before Bruce knew him."

Just the thought made me release a remorseful laugh, "There's a lot to tell there, kiddo... What do you want to know?"

Tim shrugged, still not looking directly at me, "You can start with the basics. How you met, how you became friends, all that..."

I nodded, "Okay," I drawled slowly. Where do I start? "Well... let's see, Jason and I lived a few doors down from each other. In the same building I live in now. Both of us came from similar family situations, and we both had a knack for getting in trouble." A crooked and unconvincing smile crossed my face, "It was pretty much decided from the day we met that we would become friends- that was inevitable, you know? He was on the sixth floor, I was on the eighth. I forget exactly how we figured it out, but we'd meet on the fire escape everyday before school. If we wanted to go to school, that is."

Yeah, the seventh floor fire escape. We'd make (admittedly racist) jokes about the Asian couple who lived in that apartment.

"Jason's mom- Well, I guess she's actually his step mom- was deep into drugs. Like, full-on wired hype. Most days she could barely function. Walked around like a zombie most of the time. It didn't help that she was married to some petty, scumbag criminal. His dad was never around, and died a pretty long time ago, so I don't remember him too well. Catherine, his mom, on the other hand... well, it's hard to forget a woman like that."

"She was an addict?"

"Yup, all the hardcore stuff. Heroin, amphetamines, coke, and all that. We found her stash, once. It was like, this whole-" I held took my hands off the wheel to show Tim, "Gallon bag of _shit_." I was still amazed by it. "That doesn't mean she was a bad person, though." I told Tim sternly, "Catherine Todd was the type of woman who would give you the shirt off her back if she thought you needed it more than she did. Every time I came over to their apartment, she'd make us lunch or give us money to go to the movies, and corny stuff like that. She'd just be blitzed out of her mind while doing it." My words stopped flowing, and suddenly, I was back in that apartment, reeking of cigarette smoke and dirty carpet. I recalled how badly her addiction had affected Jace. "Sometimes, she'd sleep. For days." He'd stay with me if it got too bad… Not that my place was any better. "She died of a drug overdose when Jason was eleven..." I needed to take a moment, take a deep breath before re-living that particularly dark part of my history, "It really got to him, you know? He loved her more than life itself. Even though we sorta saw it comin'... Your mom dying isn't something you can really prepare for."

Tim nodded in agreement. I watched him carefully to make sure I hadn't stirred up anything with him.

'_Damn. We should start a Dead Moms club or something.'_

When I realized he was just empathetic, I continued. "So, then when we were about- Umm, maybe around thirteen or so, our shitty home lives caught up with us. We turned into the society's worst nightmare: troubled teens with no parents to weigh them down. Just to get by, Jason and I used to pickpocket and steal alcohol from the liquor store down the street. We thought we were the biggest bad-asses ever." I laughed a genuine laugh at the memory, "We thought we were all hardcore just cause we took a sip of beer. Can you believe that?"

Tim shrugged with a half-smile. I knew he had always been a good kid, and probably couldn't relate at all. He was too smart to ever get involved with smoking or drinking or any of the shit I did at his age.

"It's bad for you, though," I huffed like a fussy grown up, "I'm sure you've heard the lecture before, but too much of that shit will kill you. I've seen it first-hand."

"I know, Madds."

I leaned over to ruffle Tim's perfectly styled black hair. He hated it when I did that. "You're a good kid. Now, where was I?"

"Drinking and smoking."

"Oh yeah! Well, as it happened, Jason was picked up by our very own Batman. Did Bruce ever tell you that story?"

Tim looked thoughtful, but ended up shaking his head, "He just said he took Jason in from off the street."

I licked my lips. The worst part was over, so I concentrated more on driving again, "There's a bit more to it than that, kid. Jason and I had gotten into a car part-stealing scheme. It was simple: I'd find the cars, Jason would take the parts, and we'd both deliver them to a guy down by the docks who would give us money." I couldn't help but grin, "I mean, we knew it was wrong- but we were kids, ya know? Our conscious hadn't quite developed yet." Tim rolled his eyes but let me continue. "Well, I scoped out this nice shiny black car right by Crime Alley. It had these awesome rims, and two bat-wing fins off the back."

Tim's mouth dropped in a mixture of amusement and astonishment, "You guys tried to _jack the Batmobile_?"

"Just the tires!" I retorted, trying not to laugh. I finally remembered I was supposed to be heading home, and began charting a course, "Batman shows up," I wave my hands, still not believing what happened all those years ago, "Just as Jason's undoing the first bolt, right? Seeing that he got caught, Jace gave me the signal to run, and that's what I did... He came back two days later with a new haircut and a cape. You believe that? The rest is history, I guess."

My story didn't seem to uplift Tim very much. If anything, he seemed more disheartened than ever. We pulled to a stop in my designated spot outside of the building.

"Why do you ask, anyway?" I remembered I was supposed to be angry. Tim and Bruce were hiding something from me. "Does it have to do with what happening?"

We exited the car, beginning the long trek to my top-floor apartment. This wasn't the same apartment I'd grown up with on the eighth floor. I couldn't stay in that one… I even had trouble passing it still.

Tim was silent our entire walk up. Only when I was unlocking my door, he finally spoke.

"Some of the villains in Gotham were teaming up..." he began, "The leader... Hush, banded them together. We eventually took them all down, and we figured out that one of our... associates, I guess you could call him, betrayed us."

"If you took them down, then what's the problem?" I asked as we entered my (very) humble apartment.

"Well... Not _all_ of them were apprehended."

I kicked off the annoying mandatory black pumps that my job required.

"And?" I began rolling my beige leg stockings down, too.

"One of them... Was Jason."

I ceased my undressing to look up skeptically at Tim from an awkwardly bent position, "Jason?" I asked with a typical _you've-got-to-be-kidding-me_ stare. "Jason's back from the dead? And he's with the bad guys? Tim, that's just silly. I know you've seen some pretty messed up stuff in your days, but the dead stay dead. Hell, you and I know that better than anyone. There's nothing that can fix that."

If anything, Tim seemed relieved by my reaction. He laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, unconsciously prodding the tender skin around the cut, "Yeah, obviously." I couldn't help but notice how he still wouldn't look directly at me, even now. "Bruce and I think it's an imposter... But he had us going for a bit." He returned to his serious tone- his Robin voice- but a bit more relaxed, "We're just keeping you safe, you know... But if it's an imposter, he probably doesn't even know who you are."

I pulled my lips into an easygoing grin, knowing I wasn't hiding my skepticism well, "Exactly. You and Bruce really need to stop being so foreboding all the time. You had me pretty worried."

Tim gave me an off smile and his usual shrug, holding up a black backpack that he'd been carrying with him, "I have patrol soon," he told me, changing the subject. "Mind if I change?"

"You know where the bathroom is, kiddo."

I studied Tim as he slipped into my tiny bathroom, relishing in the fact that he was indeed like a little brother to me. The fact that him and Bruce were so worried left an odd, content satisfaction in my heart. Still... the whole situation was a bit disturbing... Who would impersonate Jason Todd? How many people could possibly know that Jason Todd was the second Robin? I hadn't asked Tim who the other villains involved were, but I supposed they must have been pretty high up on the crime scale.

Tim ran out of my small, grimy bathroom, clad in his yellow, red, and green Robin costume. "I have patrol tonight, then I have to head out early to be at Titans Tower tomorrow. You probably won't see me for a while, okay?"

Impulsively, I reached over to the younger boy, who over the years had gotten just about as tall as I was, and hugged him fiercely around the shoulders, "Knock 'em dead, Boy Wonder."

He readily hugged me back, "Stay safe, Maddy."

I let him go and, as Robins always do, he disappeared into the night.

Stretching, I relieved some of the stress I'd built up from work. I began to unbutton my blouse as I walked into the bedroom, letting my clothes fall where they may. I've never been a particularly clean person...

Just as I was about to unhook my bra, I heard a husky chuckle from the other side of the darkened room. My heart, still weak from Tim's surprise interrogation, jumped to my throat as I panicked. My eyes made out the shadowy outline of a broad figure standing directly beside my open bedroom window, encased in the shadows. "Who's there?" I demanded, already well beyond panicked. Shit, where's my gun?

"Hey to you, too, Maddy," the broad figure stepped into the square patch of artificial light streaming onto the wooden floor. "Did you miss me?"

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter is an updatededited version of the original.**

**I'd love to thank the amazing people who have reviewed so far! This chapter is extra long, just for them. Also, for those interested, I'm taking the post-crisis route storyline, mostly because it's a bit easier to follow. I apologize if I get a few events out of place, or if the timing doesn't match up. As far as when Jason comes back to life, in relation to things going on in Gotham is a bit difficult to follow.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Hadley-sensei**


	4. Chapter Three: A Return

Injustice of Living  
>Chapter 3<p>

_Chapter Three: A Return_

I must have looked really stupid, just standing there. My arms were down, my jaw was slack, eyes wide. I was petrified, confused, completely and utterly _shocked_.

"No way..." I whispered, taking an instinctive step back. "There's _no freakin' way_..."

He laughed again, only a little quieter now. It was a weird chuckle that stood between amused and awkward. Probably because I had been undressing. Or maybe because I was stuck terrified.

So he stepped a little closer, just a tiny step, into the moonlight, holding out his arms as if to present himself.

Broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, messy black hair, and the same blue-green eyes. His lips perfectly formed a familiar smirk.

"Yes, way."

The voice, though deeper than I was used to, was unmistakable.

There... There was no mistake...

It was Jason.

* * *

><p>I didn't know I had passed out until I woke up. I couldn't have been out for very long... the sheets beneath me were still a little cold.<p>

Besides being disoriented, I felt fine. Physically, at least. My chest hurt a bit from my heart beating too fast, but the adrenaline rush I got from seeing my surprise visitor countered that. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, panic giving way to logic. What would Tim do? Assess the situation.

I was alone in my room. It was about nine o'clock now. I'm only wearing my underwear. And Jason's evil twin was lurking somewhere in the apartment (it's the only rational explanation).

I sat up carefully. I heard nothing, I saw nothing. Could he had left?

...I didn't want to risk it.

Being as silent as possible, I crept to my dresser, and pulled out a pair of cotton shorts and a large tee shirt. Slipping on the garments, I went back to my bed, and grabbed my old ankle gun. Since getting a car and a day job, I didn't find a need to carry it as much, but I still kept it under my mattress in case of intruders. It was one of those things you did "just in case," but never thought you'd actually need. Well, now I fucking needed it.

Using skills I gained from my pick-pocketing days, I crept to the living room, stepping only on the balls of my feet. I knew where every creaky floorboard was, I knew how wide I could open my bedroom door before the hinges squealed. Keeping close to the wall, I glanced around.

No sign of him.

My hands were shaking. There were no windows in this room and all the lights were out. It was dark, but I'd lived here long enough to know the silhouettes of my furniture. Nothing was out of place...

The kitchen and living room were divided by a half-wall. He must have been hiding in there. He's either in the kitchen, or not here at all. If he's in the kitchen, then I'll corner him with the gun and call the police.

If he's gone... Well, then I just have to hope he doesn't come back...

_'Fool proof...' _I thought sarcastically, readying my gun. Why couldn't Tim have stayed two minutes longer? Why didn't I notice the draft coming from my open bedroom window?

I had only taken a step away from the wall when a sudden, solid force came up behind me.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but my reflexes pulled me away with enough time to face my attacker.

To be honest, I don't know why I was surprised... again. But, I found my breath leaving my lungs, my legs beginning to quake, and my hands went numb.

He was _here. Really here_!

Black hair, light green-blue eyes, broad shoulders, and that classic douche bag smirk… I hadn't been mistaken the first time. I wasn't seeing things. That was him. Standing _right there._

But Jason- _my _Jason... Was dead.

Tears flooded my eyes, and a sob built up in my throat too quickly for me to choke it down.

Seeing my tears, his expression turned worried and sympathetic. He tried to come closer to me, but I brandished the gun wildly at him, barrel very close to his chest. "Get out," I choked, my lips trembling around each word. "Get the _fuck_ out!"

His hand had gone up as soon as I pointed the gun at him, but he hadn't backed away. "Maddy," his voice was soft. It sounded amazing to hear his voice again. "Listen-"

"No!" I screamed, clutching the butt of the gun with both hands in an effort to steady it. I took a step back and hoped it was loaded.

He took a step forward.

I took another step back. "Don't come any closer!" I warned, jabbing the gun at him for emphasis. He shrugged off my empty threat, and walked towards me again.

Instinct took over, and I pulled the trigger.

...The gun make a small "click" sound, but nothing else happened.

The intruder chuckled, biting his lip slightly as his eyebrows raised in amusement. I knew that look. I knew that look better than anyone. He was trying not to laugh at me.

Desperate at his approach, I tried again... and again... And again.

_Click, click, click, click._

With the gap between us thoroughly closed, Pseudo-Jason's hand reached up to grab my wrist. Using his other hand, he took the gun from me. He didn't have to try very hard, I conceded almost immediately, letting the cold metal be pulled from my fingers. All I could do was stand there. I was so scared.

Had this been a few years ago, when I thrived on rebellion and violence, perhaps I would have stood a chance. But, no. I'm adult-Maddy now. I've seen people get shot, and I know what happens when you mess around with violent people. I know what it's like to be on the losing end of a fight. I know the repercussions. But it'd been years since I faced them, and I had softened in my age.

_'He took my gun...' _I thought to myself in an almost child-like whine, feeling absolutely helpless.

I watched, horrified, as his finger tightened around the trigger, aiming right at his own head. His expression was of calm consciousness, as he knew full well that he had always had the upper hand. The pounding of my heart was deafening. Sweat began to trickle down the back of my neck, and my whole body shook in fear.

My eyes wrenched shut...

_Click._

"It's not even loaded."

One eye peeked open. He was still there, head fully intact. We were both still alive... For the moment.

I was also disgusted with my own stupidity, "I-I thought… I thought I had the ammo… and, I didn't?" I had just (poorly) attempted to shoot someone, and here I was, unable to actually form a sentence.

Another step closer, another step back.

"G-get out..." I pleaded in a last-ditch effort, collapsing to my knees. "Please, _please,_" I wasn't just begging- I was praying, "Just leave me alone."

He sighed down at me, crouching down to my level. I didn't shy away this time. His movements were slow, and he gently reached down to hold my wrists. "Come on, Maddy," he tugged gently, urging me to stand again.

Gulping down a large lump in my throat, I summoned enough courage to yank my wrist free from his grasp, only succeeding in falling backwards, holding myself up on my elbows.

"How do you know my name?" My mouth began to run quicker than my thoughts, "How did you find my apartment? Who the _fuck_ are you and why won't you leave me _alone_?"

He was un-phased by my interrogation, and only answered me with an incredulous stare. He was looking at me with an almost identical expression to the one Tim had given me earlier this evening. Like _I _was being the unreasonable one!

"I want my gun back!" I cried, shrinking away from his broad figure, pushing myself into the nearest corner. I hadn't stopped crying yet.

Sensing that I was in a frenzy, Clone-Jason gained a more serious expression. Again, he slowly reached for my arms, grasping just above my elbows. I didn't struggle as he hauled me up, cooing, "Come on, Maddy, let's sit down and talk. Okay?"

Still in a state of shock (mostly just by seeing _his _face again), I allowed him to do so.

I was seated on one of the sunken couch cushions, my ankle gun left carelessly next to me. Using it as an anchor of sorts, I grabbed the weapon and began fiddling with it. Prayers persisted to echo in my mind. Prayers that begged Tim to come back... For this impostor to vanish and stop haunting me... For me to just wake up in my own bed, and for this whole delusional mess to be a dream. I had no idea who or what I was praying _to_, I was just desperate.

My eyes clenched shut once again. My head dropped to my chest. I didn't want to be here. This _couldn't_ be real.

Two large hands were softly placed against my cheeks, "Maddy, please... It's really me." He sounded so gentle, so genuine... he was almost pleading with me a this point.

But I couldn't accept it. Still refusing to open my eyes, I violently shook my head, relinquishing his hold, "No! Jason Todd is _dead. _Dead and _buried_! Please, just _go away_!"

He knelt in front of me, so close that I could feel his deep voice rumble, "Your full name is Madeline Anne Sanders. Your favorite movie is _101 Dalmatians._ When you were nine, you broke your arm falling from a fire escape we were playing on, and you've been afraid of heights ever since. When we were thirteen we used to steal your mom's cigarettes and smoke on the very roof above our heads." I dropped the gun, covering my face with my hands. Everything he was saying was dead-on true... But I just wanted him to stop talking... "On your fifteenth birthday, I gave you a bottle of vintage wine that I had stolen."

_'The same night we first slept together...' _a sad smile curled my lips at the memory. I choked back a small sob. _'The wine didn't even taste that good...'_

His voice got less soothing, more firm, "Eight years ago, your mom-"

"Stop!" I interrupted, finally lifting my tear streaked face up to look him in the eye. I could see my desperation reflected in those light blue orbs. He knew what to say to get me to snap out of it. He knew what buttons to push. Only Jason- _my _Jason- knew that.

My denial was futile at that point. There's no way anyone else could know all that information about me. Plus, even if he _wasn't _my Jason... Even if he was just a clone or a robot or his evil twin, there was a small part of me sort of wanted to believe the lie. A part of me that was willing to believe anything so long as he was really here beside me.

That was all I could manage to say at the moment... My chest developed a hollow, stabbing pain as I reached my hand up to run my fingertips along his jaw. The flesh beneath my fingers was warm and firm and terribly real, lined with the slightest bit of stubble. Quickly, I recoiled my hand, returning it to my lap. The pain in my chest intensified, but the tears finally stopped.

"I watched them put you in the ground," I sounded far away, even to myself.

Jason's brow furrowed in concentration and sadness. He shook his head. "That wasn't me."

"How... how on Earth..." I couldn't speak. I could barely think! Suddenly, I was reminded of the time between reading about Jason's death in the newspaper and receiving the invitation to his funeral... Just a blank spot in my memory, but this pain in my chest seemed so familiar with that event. It was a subconscious association that suddenly made a lot of sense. "Fuck..." I finally mumbled, unable to say anything else. I dropped my face into my hands.

I felt him lean forward, reaching his arms out to hold me, but I shot back further back into the rugged cushions.

"Maddy..."

"Has..." I was slowly regaining my voice and lifting my head, "I mean, does Bruce know...?" Tim had told me that he and Bruce both believed the Jason they saw last night was an impostor. I was slowly managing to glue all the pieces of today together. An impostor wouldn't know me. Not the way this Jason did.

Carefully, I looked up and let our eyes meet. He donned an odd, blank expression, "No... You're the only one who knows so far..."

I managed to sit up a little, leaning closer to him, "But... You're old!" I proclaimed before correcting myself, "Well, older... How long have you been alive? Did you even die?"

Indeed, he seemed to have age just as any normal person would... It's been a little over four years since he died... He would be almost twenty now.

He took a moment before answering.

"I don't really know exactly how I came back to life... Or why, for that matter. But, yeah. I was dead."

"But, still..." I shook my head, a new found sense of utter confusion clouding my previous sadness, "How...?"

He smiled at me. A genuine, Jason smile. It pulled to one side and made these cute dimples appear in his cheeks. I couldn't help but give a small smile in return.

"It's a long story... But I'll tell you soon, okay?" There was a sense of finality in his words that told me the Q&A session was over.

But I wasn't quite done. "No, no," I shook my head, not accepting such a written-off excuse, "You gotta tell me what you're doing here."

His smile went away. I immediately missed it. But he was still gentle and quiet when he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "I just needed to see you again. Just you, Maddy."

I was instantly touched by his words, even though I shouldn't have been. I should have been scared, still. I should have been shouting or calling the cops.

But before I could react, three loud knocks sounded on my front door. I jumped violently at the noise, even yelping because I was so startled. Jason reached up to take hold of my shoulders, shushing me gently to calm me back down.

"Sanders, you in there?" shouted a voice on the other side of the door.

I knew the voice, the thick city accent- it was my landlord. Jason stood before I had the chance to get up, going to answer it. Something from the back of my mind told me that wasn't a good idea, and I propelled myself up from the couch, ditching my gun, and pushing past him.

I cracked open the door as far as my chain lock would allow, forgetting that my face was blotched and wet from crying. I couldn't stop myself from shaking, "Hey, Mr. Malone. What's up?"

"You alright in there, Sanders?" he asked me, concerned. He was older, in his late forties. He was smart enough to know something was wrong. "Neighbors called me, said they heard shouting." He peered over my head, an apprehensive expression contorting his face.

I glanced behind me, seeing now that he was staring at Jason, casually watching our encounter with a calm expression, though his eyes were stark and calculating.

The dread returned to my stomach.

"Who's he?"

Of course, I couldn't think of an answer, "Uh, um… Well, this is-"

"The boyfriend," Jason interrupted, smiling this gorgeous, charismatic smile. He stepped up right behind me, unlatching the chain lock and opening the door completely.

"You causing trouble?" Mr. Malone was quick to accuse.

"No!" I blurted out, shaking my head rapidly. Mr. Malone had to leave. I didn't know why I wanted him to leave, but I did. "We were, um, watching a scary movie. I guess I got a little freaked out, is all."

Jason nodded, putting a hand on the center of my back, still being as charming as ever. "We turned it off, though. Everything's fine now."

Mr. Malone worked his jaw a few times, glancing between me and Jason. To drive the point home, my hand lifted up on its own to snake around Jason's middle, pulling myself against his side. "Sorry for the noise, Mr. Malone. Everything's fine, though."

The older man stood silently for another moment, looking between me and Jason. "...Alright," he muttered eventually, "Just keep it down, okay?" he gave me a look that clearly meant more than what he said.

I gave the man a smile. He had always been so kind to me. "Sure thing," I told him, waiting until he was out of view to close my door.

A thought flitted through my mind, just for the briefest moment, as I came to realize that Mr. Malone had been my last chance to get out of this situation. But I sent him away.

I let out a long, shaky breath. Jason, never breaking his touch, lead me back to the couch. Just like that, it was as if we had rewound time, and Mr. Malone had never shown up. Like I had never answered the door in the first place.

Jason was back in front of me, crouching to we were eye-level. His hands held mine, the tips of his fingers running over every bit of skin they could. I watched with a new found curiosity as he analyzed me completely. His eyes would twitch, scanning me over, not blinking. It made me uncomfortable, but I knew why he was doing it. Same reason I was doing it to him. This was grown-up Jason, I was grown-up Maddy… It's been almost five years.

"It's been almost five years," I spoke the thought by accident, breaking a long length of silence.

He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair before resting his hand back down to my knee. "Yeah, I guess it has."

I wanted to ask questions, but I knew I wouldn't get answers. Not tonight.

"You hungry?" I only asked because I was. Even without his sudden and very unexpected appearance, even without Bruce and Tim's cryptic warnings (which I was so, _so_ stupid not to heed), today was the end of a work day for me. My original plan was to get pizza and hunker down for the weekend. But here I was, sitting with my dead best friend instead.

I pushed away my shock, fears, and worries. I hid my curiosity, my suspicions… I wiped away my tears, and put on a small smile. Maybe I could just ignore the circumstances and enjoy this for a bit.

Perfect relief shone on Jason's face for a second, then he told me, "Yeah, I can eat."

And that was okay for now.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter is an updatededited version of the original. Thanks for reading!  
>Next chapter is a total re-write.<strong>

**~Hadley-sensei**


	5. Chapter Four: A Question

**This chapter has been re-written as of February 2nd, 2015. All previous chapters have been edited as well. **

* * *

><p><span>Injustice of Living<span>  
>Chapter 4<p>

_Chapter Four: A Question_

The next morning, I found myself in line for coffee at the corner bodega, just like I did every morning. The woman running the counter was arguing in broken English with the customer in front of me over correct change. I barely registered them, even though they were being very loud. My head was too full. I think concern was evident on my face and in my movements. I've been walking on eggshells all morning, barely talking to avoid saying the wrong thing.

Jason had stayed the night on my couch. He had mentioned that it'd been a while since he stayed in a real home. It made me wonder where he had been, where he had traveled from. But I didn't say anything. I just gave him all my extra blankets and all but one pillow from my bed. He laughed at me and asked if we were making a fort. I didn't answer, I just went to bed.

I hadn't slept a wink, though. How could I? I tried, early on, but realized sleep just wasn't going to happen tonight. So I sat up in my bed, eyes trained on my bedroom door, which was cracked open just enough to give me a view of the back of the couch.

My alarm went off, but he still didn't stir. I feigned waking up, getting dressed just enough to head down the street, only bothering to brush my teeth. Jason opened his eyes and asked where I was going. When I answered, he then asked for me to bring him back a venti iced caffè latte with a shot of espresso. I told him to try again, so he said black, one cream, one sugar.

It had been initially refreshing to leave the apartment and get away from Jason for a bit. How could I explain it? He was being so _casual_. Did he not realize how big a deal this was to me? ...Did I even realize how big a deal this was?

The coffee carton in my hand seemed to grow heavier and hotter with every step I took back to my apartment. The stairs were endless. I had to stop outside my apartment door.

I had left it unlocked with Jason in there. Alone. Even though I'm pretty sure he just went back to sleep, I was scared to walk in.

...Would he still even be there? Had he ever been there in the first place? Or was last night just a crazy fever dream brought on by stress and some sort of fucked up subconscious psychotic break?

I wouldn't get my answer until I opened the door.  
>So I did. And I still saw him. Jason was there, still on my couch, though no longer sleeping. He was flipping through the channels on my crappy 20" TV, probably just realizing I don't have cable. He smiled at me, seeing the coffee cups in my hand, and made room on the couch for me to sit with him.<p>

I did so without even thinking about it, sinking back into my worn couch, pulling one of the blankets I had given Jason over my legs. I recalled countless mornings we spent together like this. In his mom's or my mom's apartment, on the couch, watching mind-numbing cartoons for toddlers, occasionally passing tired comments to one another.

My coffee burned the back of my tongue on my second sip.

Despite that I could feel the muscles on the back of my neck cramp up, but I kept my head and eyes forward, staring mindlessly at the TV screen.

Jason was relaxed beside me, his arm was slung over the back of the couch. I could feel his fingers brush the ends of my hair every so often. He had knocked back his coffee in a few large gulps. I was hanging onto mine, keeping my hands warm and occupied at the same time.

He noticed, of course. Jason wasn't stupid. He had trained under the World's Greatest Detective, after all. My obviously frigid body language was no mystery to him.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

His eyes stayed fix on the colorful distraction in front of us, but he spoke loudly and clearly enough that I know I didn't mishear him.

I stayed very still for a minute or so, before stiffly shrugging my shoulders. My coffee was lukewarm now.

I could feel the atmosphere between us grow a little colder. I tucked the blanket tighter around my legs.

Jason bit back a groan, substituting a deep inhale through his nose. "Come on, Madds…"

The tension that had been building in my stomach since last night grew substantially tighter, "Don't fucking '_Come on, Madds' _me!" I snapped. My gut wanted me to shut up, but it just got to be too much. My hands were shaking, threatening to squeeze my cardboard cup into a caffeinated explosion. "What the hell do you want me to _say_, Jace?"

"_Anything!_" he retorted, showing the first bit of honest, unbranded emotion since he showed up.

I couldn't look at him, I just continued to sit straight and stare ahead of me. But I watched him out of my peripheral. I knew if I turned to actually look at him, I would _break._ Something inside me would snap or fall apart, and I would us cry and scream and I don't know what else. Hit him? Maybe. Some part of me wanted to. But then another part wanted me to throw my arms around him and never let go. I couldn't deny that I felt _complete_ for the first time in _years_, just sitting here with him. But it was _wrong_.

"Why are you here?" I finally demanded, even though I had already asked that question to no avail.

"I already said, I can't-"

"_Bullshit._"

I needed to ditch my coffee cup before I made a mess. I tore away from the couch, heading to the kitchen. I hadn't even taken off my Chucks yet. The red ones. Those fucking red shoes…

I dumped my cup, slamming my open palm on the counter once- twice- a couple times. My mom used to do that when she was frustrated, too. "_Fucking bullshit._"

I heard him get up. I heard the blankets fall to the ground. I heard the steps he was taking towards me.

But I didn't look.

"I wanted to see you."

'_Oh, fuck him!' _my thoughts sneered. Somehow, him saying that had made it much worse. I wouldn't be satisfied with that crap answer.

"You didn't come back from the dead just to see me," I surprised myself with how calm I sounded. "The rules don't work like that."

Finally, I turned around. Jason was leaning over the small half-wall dividing my kitchen and main room. He was resting on his arms, smirking that goddamn smirk of his. "Since when do I play by the rules?"

He almost had me there for a minute, I'd give him that much. I almost swooned at his devil-may-care attitude towards my anger, and nearly smiled back at the dreamy eyes he was giving me. But then I reminded myself that I wasn't fifteen anymore. I'm grown, so was he. And we were gonna act like adults and fight.

"Tell me the truth."

"Maddy-"

"Now, Jason. Or you're gone. Either answer me or leave," fuck, I was tearing up, "And never come back!" Way to be mature, Maddy.

He sighed, running a hand down his face, eyes to the ceiling. This was the first time he actually looked his age to me. Before, I kept seeing just a more chiseled version of the teenager I once knew. Now he was a man. A very tired, very worn man.

I could feel my face crumple at the sight. Sympathy replaced my anger.

"Jace…" I fumbled with my hands, lip between my teeth, and took a few steps forward until I was right in front of him, though the wall was still between us. "I just need to know what's going on."

He reached out for my hand. I gave it to him. Neither of us looked directly at the other, but the warmth of his fingers around mine was reassuring enough.

"So you're not gonna buy that I came back just for you, huh?" There was a nervous quality to his voice I hadn't heard in a long time… Probably not since he became Robin.

"No…" I whispered back, just as tentative. "I know you better than that." Or at least I thought I did…

"Do you remember what the last thing you said to me was? Before I died?"

The question caught me off guard. He was looking me down hard for answer. So I thought back to that phone call from Ethiopia. It was a short conversation. I didn't have to think hard. "That I couldn't wait for you to get back."

"And then what did I say?"

"That you'd be back before I knew it."

There was a long block of silence then. His hand was rough, calloused, and strong. He had these gorgeous, long fingers, and these massive palms to match. Last time I checked, our hands were the same size, but now his dwarfed mine.

"I got so excited," he began in a whisper, "Thinking that I actually had a mom, somewhere out there. A real mom, who looked like me, who I could talk to, who was clean… Who would worry about me instead of me worrying about her."

Catherine Todd's face appeared crystal clear in my mind. Her wide smile, with yellow teeth. Her kind eyes and those dilated pupils. Premature wrinkles that deepened every time she laughed. I missed her.

"And I thought I could bring her back to Gotham… And I'd get a family, get to be a normal kid during the day, then go off and fight crime at night." Again, his hand wiped over his face. "Things with Bruce had gone sour… But I didn't wanna leave. It was like fate, you know? I got a new reason to keep playing hero."

My eyebrows were furrowed, a frown cemented itself on my lips… I could barely follow Jason's story. He had only told me he was looking for his birth mom, and that was the only real reason I got on why he left.

"But then I met the bitch."

And my insides went cold. Never, since the very day we met, had I ever heard him speak of another person with that much… hate. Pure, disregarded malice. Not Catherine or his father… Not my mother, or any of the neighborhood thugs… Never of Bruce or the other heros… Not even the villains he fought at night.

Jason Todd _hated _his birth mother.

I wanted to ask him what exactly had happened in Ethiopia, but the question died in my throat. The look on his face, the tense grip he held my hand in… Fear crept up my spine. He wasn't just telling me a vague story. He was living it in his head.

"She's the reason I died, Maddy. I even tried to save her in the end, but we both kicked it."

Deafening silence.

"...And now you're back," I finished for him, voice as meek as I felt. I realized then that I didn't really want to know Jason's last moments… I don't think I could handle it. Not yet… Maybe not ever. The uncertainty of not knowing had bothered me for a while, but now, he was telling me a first-hand account of it. Greif pooled in my stomach, like I was mourning him all over again. Was this weakness? Would Jason think I'm a coward for not being able to handle it?

...I didn't find out.

He let it go. He let go of my hand. It fell to my side. For a moment or two we were frozen together on separate sides of that stupid half-wall. Why had that even been installed anyway? It served no purpose, but every center apartment in the building had one.

I stepped around the stupid partition to do what I had been secretly wanting to do since I laid eyes on him last night.

He hugged me just as tight, just as badly, just as desperately. He didn't smell like cigarettes and leather anymore. His scent was musk and faint cologne, with a hint of something that smelt like fire, but I couldn't quite place it. I had to stand on my toes to wrap my arms around his shoulders like I always used to. His hand curled up my back, balling the fabric of my shirt over my shoulder blades.

I felt his breath warming the crook of my neck. An electric tingle raced over the area, preparing me for a kiss there, but one never came. I told myself that it was just a reaction, that I would have felt that way with anyone who had held me like that. It wouldn't be the first lie I told myself today.

"Madds… I just need a place to stay for a little bit."

I waited for more of an explanation before letting myself cave in.

"I came back for a reason… And no, it wasn't just to see you." He pulled back, giving me a sideways smile, "Although that's a perk."

"Get to the point, Todd," I told him as stern as I could muster. But I knew he saw the tears in my eyes. He knew how weak I was. He was in total control now, and he knew it. Sure, I was making him say something to convince me… But it was totally unnecessary. He could say anything, tell me any lie, and I would give in completely. Jason knew that.

"It's been a long trip for me… Longer than you can ever imagine. So if you could just give me a few days to lay low with you, to get myself together, I can tell you everything then."

My face gave him his answer.

"Yeah, okay."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for lack of activity in this story. I was really unhappy with what I had before, so I edited each chapter to bring it up to my current standard. I shouldn't need to do it again, so expect nothing but new content from here on out. Thanks to everyone who has stayed with me so far!<strong>

**~Hadley-sensei**


	6. Chapter Five: A Suspicion

Injustice of Living  
>Chapter 5<p>

_Chapter Five: A Suspicion_

The following day was like a dream. And I mean that literally, I've had dreams like this. Where Jason and I are back together, just living and being happy and domestic. Well, I guess "happy" isn't quite the right word to use… It was more like "awkwardly content."

It was early on Sunday evening and we were eating Chinese takeout on the couch, watching the TV edit of _Kill Bill_, which we both found to be quite hilarious. We held small conversations during commercial breaks between bites of lo mein and fried rice.

Jason was staying on my couch, no questions asked. He had only just gone out earlier today, but otherwise stayed in the apartment with me. I had left a few times to run errands, but was never gone longer than an hour. Jason had brought back a duffle bag, and I have no idea what's in it. I know he has a phone, but he only texts or writes emails on it, no calls. He had a computer, too, but only went on it at night, after I had gone to my room.

I didn't ask what he was doing. I didn't want to know. I was content with staying in my bubble of ignorance... At least for now.

"I have work tomorrow," I mentioned through a bite of noodles.

"Hm," was his response.

I side-eyed him, "I work for Wayne Enterprises, you know."

This was the first factoid I mentioned to him about my current life. Not a lot has changed since he died, at least not for me. I wonder how he found me…? I lived in the same building as I did back then, just a few floors up. I mean, he could have just looked me up in the listing, but still… I couldn't have been _that_ easy to find… Maybe I should start using a pseudonym.

"What branch?" he asked, sitting up a bit straighter now. He held his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, but didn't seem to notice the seasoned shrimp fall back into the carton on his lap.

I turned to look at him, eyebrows raised slightly. "Uhm, well I'm just a Personal Assistant to one of the C.O.'s, so I'm mostly at corporate… But he oversees the Shipping Branch, so I deal with a lot of that work."

I watched as his brow tightened and his eyes shifted. He was scheming. Not just thinking- he was straight-up plotting. He would get the same look when he saw someone's wallet sticking out of their pocket, or when a store's security cameras weren't plugged in. I was used to seeing a devious smirk accompany that look, but this time it didn't show.

"That's cool, Madds."

And he went back to eating.

I stared at him a second longer before turning back to the TV, where Luci Liu was cutting off the head of a crime lord.

Then I finally saw Jason smirk out of the corner of my eye.

* * *

><p>"Are you gonna be here when I get back?" I was slipping on my heels, half-wondering where I left my keys.<p>

Jason was staring at his phone. He had woken up before me (or maybe had stayed up all night?), showered and changed into fresh clothes before I even got out of bed. He was wearing slacks and a button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He looked damn good in business casual.

"Yeah, I should be," he didn't look up from his phone until I was standing in front of him. My keys were on the coffee table.

He looked me up and down, eyebrows raised and an open-mouth smile.

"What?" I asked, feeling sheepish, adjusting the strap of my briefcase. ...It was more of a back pack, but in the office, I was supposed to call it a briefcase.

He shook his head and laughed a little, running his hand through his hair, messing up the style a bit. "Nothing… It's just," he spoke very quietly, "You look really grown up."

I could feel my face flush, mostly from the tone of voice he used. "I am a grown up," I mumbled. I cleared my throat to try to brush away my embarrassment, "Well, I'll be back before dinner time, so we can eat together or whatever."

"We should go out," he suggested with a grin, "I can make reservations."

Whatever blush I had suppressed immediately rushed back, "You don't have to do that… I mean, we can go out if you want, but it doesn't have to be anywhere fancy…"

He shook his head, standing and walking me to the door, "No, I insist. I owe you, after all."

"No you don't," I scoffed. As if I would ever turn him away. I mean, sure, these were weird circumstances, but it didn't _really _change anything. As suspicious as I was of him and whatever he was doing or planning, I wouldn't turn him away. How could I? He was Jason Todd.

He rolled his eyes at me, "Well, I insist anyway."

Then he bent down, kissed me on the cheek, told me to have a good day, and pushed me out the door.

I walked down to the parking garage with a smile on my face and an odd feeling in my gut.

* * *

><p>My work day had gone by completely normal up until my lunch break.<p>

I was only given twenty minutes to eat, so I usually just got something from the building cafeteria and ate at my desk. But just as I cracked open the cheap plastic container of my salad, my boss paged me into his office. A little on edge, I threw my flimsy fork down, snapping the container shut once again. He paged me to walk five feet to his mahogany-lined office during my only real break of the day.

"Yes, Mr. Callahan?" I asked with a very perky, very fake smile.

"Sanders!" he didn't look up at me when he spoke, just kept shuffling papers with his right hand and feeding himself bites of a gyro with the other. "Need a quick favor."

That's what he said every time he asked me to do anything. "Sanders, do me a quick favor and fax these to HQ for me?" "Sanders, I need a quick favor, set up reservations at Café Voltaire for seven."

It's not like I could resent him or anything, even with the dumb errands he has me run. By all means, he was a good boss. I just had a crappy job. It was nothing but doing pointless odd-jobs; no problem solving, no creative thinking, no usage of skills… Not that I really had many skills, but still. I got paid way more than I should have, and it was low-stress, but I still got pretty bored. I looked forward to lunch with the expectation that I wouldn't be bothered. Today was not going to be one of those days.

"Sure thing, Mr. Callahan. What do you need?"

He chewed a large bite, holding out a small stack of files to me, "Mr. Wayne asked for the early drafts of these reports. He wants them pronto, could you just run them up to the top floor for me?"

"Mr. Wayne wants the early drafts…?" I couldn't stop myself from asking the question.

He brandished his sandwich to wave off my confusion. "I know," he said through a mouthful of pita bread and meat, "I don't know why he can't wait 'til they're done, but he asked me through an urgent memo. I guess he's cracking down on the heads."

With a disheartened sigh of knowing I'd _maybe _have five minutes to eat by the time I got back, and took the damn files.

Mr. Callahan noticed, not that I was trying to hide it. With a sympathetic look he offered, "You can take another ten minutes for lunch when you get back."

Well, that made things a bit better. "Thanks, boss."

To get from my boss' office to Mr. Wayne's office, I had to head up three floors to where the connector bridge between the two buildings that was the Enterprise's corporate headquarters. From there, I needed to go up another ten floors before reaching Mr. Wayne's private office suit. The trip took about ten minutes total, but I was delayed by missing the first elevator and had to take the stairs to the connector bridge (which was really this cool outdoor corridor that had windows instead of walls). By the time I actually got to his office, my lunch break was technically over. During my hike, I had plenty of time to wonder why Bruce Wayne _urgently _needed unfinished field reports from the shipping C.O.

Even if he was actually going to assess them, there was no need for urgency. Bruce was the owner, sure, but he wasn't hands-on, at least not at this level. This would be more believable if I was running the files to Lucius Fox, who actually _ran _the company, at least from my understanding of how this place works.

Finally, I reached his office. I told Lydia (his former-Scandinavian-super-model receptionist) that I was here to drop off the files. But when I tried to hand them to her, she brushed past me to pop her head through the _massive_ double doors that separated the reception area from his work space.

I couldn't hear what they said, Lydia just told me I could go in now.

I must have pulled a face because she let the door slam as soon as I got both feet in.

I had never been to Bruce's office before, and I felt extremely out of place. The whole room was in a chrome palate, accented with blacks and grays. There were these dumb frosted glass dividers flanking the desk area. I wondered if he had a Bat Suit hidden around here… Maybe in that gigantic desk. I mean it was on a raised platform-

"Madeline," I have no idea where he had been hiding, but he came out of nowhere to grab my elbow.

I gasped and jumped, but he held firm and dragged me over towards the desk.

"I got the files, Mr. Wayne-" again he cut me off, this time just snatching the folders from my hand and throwing them down on the desk. He then threw _me _onto one of the black leather chairs facing the desk, clenching each of the chair arms so hard that I could feel the support wood groan.

With a sinking stomach, I realized two things. One: he had me completely trapped. Two: Angela from accounting had told me a wildly inappropriate fantasy she had that started out just like this. I don't know which thought was worse.

There was a hostility and restraint in his voice. I could tell he was barely keeping himself from lashing out. "Madeline, I need to ask you a very serious question."

"...Okay…" I was too afraid to go above a whisper.

"I need you to answer honestly. I _will _be able to tell if you're lying, so please do not test me."

'_I am so fucked.'_

"Okay."

He had these crystal blue eyes that were hard with anger and an underlying fear. Every muscle in his face was tense. He had an incredible jaw line, but the hard way it was set sort of took the attractive aspect out of it.

"Madeline," the way he said my name made my guts twist, "Do you recall the gift I gave you the day of Jason's funeral."

Not quite the question I was expecting, but I answered anyway. "Uhm, yeah… the, uh," I pointed to my eye. "Robin mask?"

"What did you do with it?"

I shrugged, "It's in a box in my dresser. It's been there for years."

He pulled away from me, marching around to the other side of the desk, tearing open one of the drawers with enough force that the left side came dislodged. Pens and paper flew out of the crooked, now jammed, drawer. Bruce didn't seem to mind, only focused on pulling out something buried in the back.

Then he held up a worn scrap of stiff, black cloth. He gave me an expectant look that was nearly identical to the one my mother used to give me when she caught me sneaking out. I felt nauseous. My ears started ringing.

I reached out a shaky hand, only able to communicate by twitching my fingers. Bruce handed me the mask, keeping his gaze on me, unblinking and appraising. He watched carefully as I ran my fingers over the cloth. It wasn't all that long ago I held and inspected it the same way, only then, I was in bedroom and crying (sometimes drunk, too). But, ever since the other night, the heavy cloud of mourning that has hung over me for the past few years has dissipated without me even realizing it. So now, while holding and inspecting Jason's mask, I didn't feel sadness or grief… Just suspicion and a _tiny bit pissed off. _

But I couldn't let it show. "Where did you get this...?"

For a split second, I _prayed _that he would say that he snuck into my house, went through my things and happened to have found it. I mentally reached out to every god I could think of, hoping that the billionaire Bruce Wayne was some sort of perv that got off by rummaging through young women's pantie drawers.

"Batman found it in his car."

'_Fuck.'_

I slumped forward until I practically folded myself in half, letting the mask loosely dangle in my left hand.

"To be through," Bruce continued, sounding less rigid than before, "I ran a quick test using some skin cells I scraped off it. Jason and your's DNA was the only ones I found."

I looked up with an expression of incredulity, "You have my DNA on file?"

He creased his brow with a redundant nod, "Batman does."

My shoulders heaved with a sigh. I sucked in more oxygen to stave away the bile rising up the back of my throat. Head between the knees and deep breaths, right? Well, my pencil skirt wouldn't really allow that, but I got close enough.

"Madeline-"

"Maddie!" I groaned. "You can call me Maddie, Mr. Wayne."

He could hear the clear anxiety in my voice, "...You can call me Bruce, then."

I tried my best to hide the anger that was stemming from the scenario my suspicious mind was putting together. "Bruce, someone broke into my apartment."

That someone was Jason fucking Todd, but I kept that to myself.

He came back around the desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms. The aura of parent-scolding-child returned. "You had no idea it was taken from you?"

At least I could still be honest. "No… When did you say you found this?"

"Thursday night."

"Why did you wait to tell me about it?"

"When we talked on Friday, the tests hadn't finished… Then I had conflicting engagements over the weekend. Catching you at work was the easiest way to get in contact with you."

I felt like I could argue against that, but didn't. Instead I took some time to think… This would have had to have been taken from me Thursday afternoon at the latest. Jason had shown up in my bedroom late on Friday, presumably while I was out with Tim.

Jason used to sneak into my old apartment all the time, using the fire escape and a broken window lock. But my new apartment was up to code. All locks worked, including the deadbolt I had on the door. I chalked up Jason's impromptu "hi, I came back from the dead and now I'm in your bedroom!" entrance to his general resourcefulness. He jimmied the window and redid the lock before I walked in. That explains it, right? I always checked all my locks before going to sleep- all downtown Gothamites did. I definitely would have noticed if one had been left unlocked this week. But I didn't notice. My door, my windows, they were all sealed. And while my room was never all that clean, nothing was out of place.

So how the fuck did Jason's mask make it out of my underwear drawer and into the Batmobile?

* * *

><p>Bruce let me go back to Mr. Callahan's office, but wouldn't let me take the mask. He said it was evidence now. I threw it back on his oversized desk and left without saying goodbye. I made the ten minute trek back to my crappy undersized, aluminum desk in a heavy silence. It was like my lips were glued shut. I couldn't even open them to yawn.<p>

I threw away my salad. It was room temperature now, anyway.

And then I waited.

I waited for the last fax to be sent, the last email to be received, and for Mr. Callahan to speed-walk out of his office, uttering a quick, "Night, Sanders!"

Then I got into my car, and went home.

Luck or karma was on my side, and I hit every green light on the way. I counted every step from the main door of the building to my apartment. It was unlocked.

Jason was in the kitchen, and a delicious smell filled the room.

"Hey!" he greeted me with a smile, "I decided to cook. Bought some groceries, too. Real groceries, not just snack food and frozen waffles-"

I walked right passed him. I didn't hear a goddamn word he said. My bag was thrown on the couch where it bounced and landed on the floor, spilling papers and candy wrappers underneath my coffee table.

I went straight to my room, yanking open the top drawer of my dresser the exact same way Bruce had opened the drawer of his desk.

There, under the nice lacy lingerie I saved for special occasions, was a red cigar box. It was pretty small and cube-shaped. Inside were a few sentimental items, my birth certificate, some newspaper clippings, pictures, and my renters contract. One of those sentimental items was the mask Bruce had given me that ugly, ugly day we buried Jason.

Just as expected, the mask was missing. Everything else was there, but not how I left it. I layered the paper items on the bottom, protecting the photographs from getting scratched up by putting the other papers as a buffer between the trinkets. I made the very conscious note that my mother's jewelry was still there. If a thief had broken in, that would be gone.

It had to have been Jason. He would be the only person who would know exactly where to look. Not even Tim knew about this.

My vision was tinted a very similar shade of red as the box.

Jason looked very taken aback when I stomped into the kitchen, slamming the box on my already unstable kitchen table, not caring when a few of its contents flew out.

Everything went dead silent. I suddenly couldn't here the running sink or the sizzling pan on my underused stove. With painful slowness, dread began to roll over Jason's expression.

"Wanna fucking explain this?"


End file.
